The Haunted life of Kuboyasu A
by MsSage
Summary: Aren 'Guns' Kuboyasu really liked his new life but sometimes the ghosts of one's past come back to haunt you. Kin 'Katana' Tojo should be dead. So why is his rival here, with Reita Toritsuka chasing her around? One thing was for sure Aren would protect his new friends - even if he paid in blood.
1. Chapter 1

**Aren**

Aren 'Guns' Kuboyasu's past was fairly simple. He was a delinquent, back in his day. Now retired, only Kusuo, Nendo and Shun knew of this.

Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't ashamed of his past. He simply viewed it as a chapter of his life that was quite firmly over. Something he wouldn't be forced to revisit. His new friends were too loyal, _too soft_, to cause him any such discomfort.

Kusuo wasn't a man of many words. Yet the Pinkette was understanding and solid in his resolve. Aren barely knew him outside of his fixation with coffee, but instincts told him that he could trust Kusuo Saiki with his very life. It was the same intuition that led him to believe there was more to the quiet boy then he let on. One tended to trust these kind of instincts after a few near death experiences.

Shun Kaidou was braver then he had any right to be. Delusional and childish, but brave none the less. Aren could tell the bad sort at a glance, and Shun had no place among their ranks. Shun was the kind of guy that would take a bullet for you even though he was terrified out of his wits. Aren could respect that in a man.

Nendo Riki was, well Nendo Riki. The guy grew on you after some time. Kinda like mold. Aren felt like Nendo was indestructible. He'd enjoy observing whether or not this was in fact a truth. He wasn't sure when he started considering the knucklehead a friend, but he supposed few were as resilient as he, himself was. For that alone, Nendo deserved some acknowledgement.

Kokomi Teruhashi was God's favoured child. Even he couldn't ignore utter perfection when he saw it. He completely wasn't sure why she graced them with her angelic presence but he was willing to bet Kusuo had a thing or two to do with it. The girl had an army of followers at her disposal and a heart of gold. The combination was so unique, he felt almost in awe whenever he saw her. For that fact alone, the lovely Kokomi had his attention, if not his eyes.

Chiyo Yumehara, Shun's beloved - if the boy would ever pay attention, was a hard worker. Yumehara didn't do battle halfway. She was relentless really. Sometimes with so much vigor she even outdid Kineshi. Aren liked fighters and more so he liked an underdog. He felt himself rooting for Chiyo more often than not.

There were many more. Kineshi Hairo, Mera Chisato, Touma Akechi, Mikoto Auira and even Saiko Metori. They were, dare he say it his friends. The best of friends he could ask for if he was honest. He was content. It was his final year in high school, he wasn't a delinquent anymore and there was absolutely nothing in the world that could ruin this year.

Or so he thought until he saw her, leaning against the wall in the corner of the schoolyard. She was different from what he remembered, although he supposed most of his memories of her were replaced with nightmares of her dying, drowning in a pool of her own blood.

He wasn't sure how he'd spotted her, she wasn't exactly trying to stand out while smoking that cigarette in a uniform. Perhaps it was because his senses were always honed to her or perhaps it was because Reita Toritska, of all people, had dared to try and occupy her space coaxing the girl for what he could only assume would get the monk killed.

Kin 'Katana' Tojo.

She couldn't possibly be real. She had to be a figment of his imagination. Still, he didn't hesitate in closing the distance between them, barely noticing as he roughly pushed Toritska aside and Kusuo's sudden arrival. She dragged on the cig, a perfect reddened pout puckering as she blew smoke in his face, her gold eyes flashing in surprised recognition. He didn't speak, glancing her over, eyes disbelieving it could be her. Yet here she was, pony-tailed raven hair a little longer, body a tad curvier and face more lovely then he would dare to admit. Then noticed her uniform, their school uniform and scowled. Shirt too large, she'd pushed up her sleeves to her elbows allowing a peek of a tattoo to show. Skirt too short, his trained eye could find the faded scars gracing her legs in the gap between her stockings and skirt.

Some scars, he was sure he'd put there. Not that she hadn't done a number on him, if his Femoral artery had anything to say about it. Aren had many a battle wound and Katana was a person that had certainly lived up to her moniker. As had he, he realized as her hand dropped the still lit cigarette, dropping low on the left of her rib cage where he knew under layers of cloth were the remnants of a point blank entry wound.

"Guns." She breathed out, wide eyed. He flinched at her calling him by his former namesake and he couldn't help but growl in response. He'd long forsaken that title, in favor of his current life.

"I go by Aren now, Katana." There was a hint of a threat in his voice, as he leaned over her wanting to touch her. Was she an illusion? It couldn't be possible she was alive right? If he touched her would she be warm? If he pulled a gun on her and ended her all over again, would she bleed? Could she whip out a blade and cut into him again and again and again? Would he die? How could she possibly be alive? Why had he never known she lived? If she lived why was he even alive?

She was a Tojo. An elite. If the Yakuza knew what he had done, he should be dead. Preferably, by her hand. There were too many questions. Too few of them had answers.

He was aware that somewhere behind him, Kusuo was both listening and watching. Reita Toritska too, if his intuition was right. Still, he couldn't bring himself to look back. Not when she stood so defiantly before him.

She nodded at him, perhaps realizing he didn't want his former nickname gracing his new friends lips. With a swift, yet somehow gentle push, reminding him she wasn't

a ghost, she removed him from her space and begun to walk away, leaving him transfixed on her retreating figure before she spun around. Her golden eyes gleamed with something he hoped was only mere mirth in them as she paused her retreat.

"I go by Kin, in case you've forgotten me." She said, half laughing at some inside joke before she turned her heel and fled once more, heading towards the school's reception. Whether or she felt his gaze linger on her back, fixated for a second on where he knew the exit wound was to match _that_ scar.

Turning around he was graced by Kusuo's frown and Reita's incessant questioning. He paused trying to come up with an explanation for what had just occurred. Anything would do. Kusuo and Reita would be eaten alive by the demons in his past if they pushed too hard. He had to keep his friends safe. Even if Reita was more of an acquaintance to him.

"Stay away from her. She's all kinds of dangerous."

He watched Kusuo Saiki nod in understanding and Reita Toritska nod in acceptance something very different reflected in each boy's face.

Kusuo would leave her be. He'd probably only shown up in the first place because of his uncanny instincts of sensing mortal peril. Aren knew the pinkette had no real desire to end up a Yakuza princess's plaything in this lifetime. Kusuo had enough trouble with Teruhashi's affection alone.

The latter, Toritska, had acknowledged the danger with uncharacteristic silence. Yet even with that insight, Aren could already see the boy's familiar resolve. To some, the presence of danger was the very allure of the hunt. Like a month to a flame, Reita Toritska would be burnt alive.

That simply wouldn't do. For, Kin Tojo was indeed a problem. Yet, not just anybody's problem. Certainly not someone as sleazy and spineless as Reita Toritska.

Aren and Kin would be having words. Nothing too serious, just two average high schooler's reminiscing on a past best left hidden.

He could only hope _Guns _and _Katana _were relics of that very past. He liked his new life, he decided, and nothing was going to rob him of it. Not even what should be a ghost of his past.


	2. Chapter 2

**Reita**

For as long as he could remember he'd been a psychic. Not a particularly gifted one like Kusuo or Mikoto, he would never be able to save the world nor would he be able to divine the future of him and his friends.

Nope, Reita Toritsuka had the god useless ability to abilities to see, talk to, and be possessed by ghosts. It wasn't all that terrible now that he wasn't a terrified little kid seeing and speaking to the dead, pleading for someone – _anyone -_ to save him from the demons only he could see.

Now, as a teenager he understood that each ghost had their own personality and quirks. Reita usually used his powers in selfish ways such as making ghosts do his bidding, like looking at what color of underwear a girl was wearing. He'd met a lot of interesting dead people frozen in a state of agelessness, many of whom couldn't really remember their former lives or how they'd met their end.

He is also honest enough that he's confessed to Kusuo the reason why he wanted his psychic powers is for his own benefit and perverted antics. He didn't want to deal with the problems of the deceased. The problems of the living had been complicated enough.

He supposed that it was preferable for a ghost to be unknowing. Who would want to know how they'd met their own demise? That their family or loved ones were still alive somewhere and they couldn't speak to them? As a medium between the dead and the living it was more convenient for him if they didn't.

Still once in a while he'd happen upon a ghost that didn't quite fit into the textbook mold he'd created. Ghost that died before their time after being abandoned by their guardian spirits, retaining all their memories including their deaths. These ghosts still aged. If one of them happened upon him, he'd see it all. Not just their past, but how they'd died and worse still, the future that could have been.

Originally, the Occult Club was created in an attempt to pick up chicks, but the only other people who joined were Kusuo, Shun, Chiyo, and a spooky girl named Arisu, whom hevd temporarily taken a liking to. Since his plan to be popular with the ladies didn't work, he decided to give up on it. At some point, he ended up changing it to make Kusuo the club president. Later he finds out that Chiyo and Arisu have been the only ones showing up for club since then with his occasion pop in. Still the occult had piqued interest and he had done his own research on the side.

It would seem the world had housed psychics long before he, Mikoto and Kusuo had come to be. And people with his particular brand of psychic ability? They'd dived into the world of the occult. It was a world Kusuo would pay no heed to, and Mikoto barely skated around it's periphery. Yet, for once Reita thrived. As a future monk and despite his skirt chasing ways, his sense of spirituality ran deeper than most. As a psychic that could see the dead? He has first hand knowledge that there was another side.

Knowledge that there were ways to bring people back from that side, if certain conditions could be met. He was stoked at having, for once, such knowledge and _such power. _ He had no idea how dangerous it was but he surely couldn't be possibly motivated to find out. He wasn't a hero like Kusuo.

Then he'd found _her_.

_Kin Tojo._

Immediately, all thoughts of danger had become irrelevant.

A dead sixteen year old Yakuza princess. One that kept her memories. She was kind and lonely. She also was exceedingly lovely and he'd initially tried to reach for her, not realizing the lonely girl he'd conversed with outside the school for the past few months was actually a ghost.

He hadn't been prepared to see her past and her death upon touching her less than corporeal form.

He'd seen her raised amongst criminal elite to be a criminal elite. She hadn't yet killed, but she knew she would have to. She had been a Tojo after all. The best friend of Aren Kuboyasu during his delinquent phase and ordered to kill him. Her memory was haunting.

_And she had tried, going at it until it was time to make the final cut. She'd needed to slit that cocky Aren Kuboyasu's, everyone's favorite bad boy's, neck in order to ascend in rank. For whatever reason she hesitated._

_Cocky Aren had been terrified fighting her, his gun drawn, but never once firing more than a warning shot as he tried to fight her, a Katana wielder, with a mere butterfly knife._

_So he'd brought a knife to a sword fight. The thought had struck her funny as she loomed over him, pulling the gun to her ribs, daring him to do it. She'd known he couldn't do it. But she'd also known the only way he could get out of this and live was if she fell in battle against him. They'd kill him if they both walked away, alive, from this fight now. Yakuza didn't have weaknesses and he was one of hers._

_Aren's eyes had the understanding of someone that knew he was about to die. His hand, still holding the gun, shook as he pressed it limply into her ribcage. She was still here, her Katana resting delicately on the skin of his neck, awaiting her move for the kill. She should of killed him. It was her duty, destiny even. Still she stared at him transfixed for a mere moment._

_Aren Kuboyasu. Her best friend. She didn't hesitate reaching for the gun as his eyes closed in acceptance, probably ready to have it seized it from his unwilling hand._

_She didn't hesitate sliding her thumb around his finger, her hand caressing his for a moment, placing just the right amount of pressure. The shot rang out and Aren's eyes snap open in horror while she falls, her Katana clattering to the ground a moment before her._

_He tries to catch her, but falls with her. The pain is excruciating. She can feel her busted ribs and knows she's bleeding a lot. Too much for her to possibly survive. Her lungs are burning and it's hard to breathe. She's choking on her own blood she realizes, the bullet did a lot more damage then she could have known. Aren's staring at her on his knees with his hand reaching for his gun. He raises it to his head as she attempts and fails to protest. He pulls the trigger, tears running down his face._

_She prays to God's and heaven and whatever spirits that had protected them all their life's, that this time that he doesn't kill himself._

_The gun doesn't fire and for all her bloodloss she smiles triumphantly at him. He's used too many bullets. He looks from her to her to her blade but doesn't dare touch it, instead he reaches to her. Pulling her limp formnagainst him. She's lost so much blood now, he doesn't bother trying to stem the flow. Yet, he holds her, uncaring that the bloods seeping into his clothes too now._

_Perhaps it's respect for her choice to choose her own end honorably rather than kill him, her friend. Aren was deep like that. Even if he wanted to save her, they both knew that he couldn't. He'd let her die here, by her own choices._

_" Why?" He murmered so soft she could barely hear it. She's so tired. She doesn't want to respond. She does anyway. He's a sweet boy, she realizes and she's glad she'd never try to kill him._

_"Live a...good life for... us both, ...Guns. Can't... live... a... free... life... this...way." The words came out slow but she knew he'd understood what she wanted for him. For herself too, if fate had been much kinder or she far more selfish._

_"I'm not a good person, Katana. I should follow you." There was dispair in Aren's voice as she felt the world blur before her._

_"You... can... be... good." She urged him, with what little energy she had left._

_"I'll try," he promises and she smiles at him and through her hazy vision, she glimpses his crooked smile in return. It makes her oddly happy that he's smiling, on her deathbed. Aren Kuboyasu should smile more she decides, as she finally gives up, blood on her lips and a hole through her chest._

_With one simple act, two things that would have always come to be still occurred._

_ Kin 'Katana' Tojo is no more._

_Nor was Aren 'Guns' Kuboyasu._

Reita had to sympathize with Aren. That was a tough situation to survive. Technically, she'd died by his weapon, for his own sake. He knew the former delinquent wasn't a bad guy, else Kusuo would not associate with him. Still Aren had blood on his hands, in a figurative sense.

Kin was never meant to die that day. That had been Aren's fate. She'd somehow transfered her guardian spirit, a ronin, to Aren.

When one's time comes, a guardian spirit leaves you to your own defenses. Reita's never understood the exact mechanisms of this. However, one thing he did know was that after that day, Kin's guardian spirit followed Aren around.

Kin's past was tragic, while her suicide was heroic. This Reita, for all his disdain, could not deny.

However it's not Kin's past that had Reita hooked. Every ghost had a past, tragic as some of them may have been.

No, the thing that had Reita ensnared? So much that he was willing to risk it all to bring back the dead? To go behind Kusuo's back and ask Kusuke to help him hide her identity? What could make Reita, self proclaimed pervert take such a risk?

It was only future that would have been, for Kin Tojo. A future she had robbed herself of and given to Aren Kuboyasu with bloody hands.

Reita understood Kin's death wasn't Aren's fault. He'd had no control over what she and her guardian spirit had chose.

It didn't mean Reita didn't hate him for it though.


End file.
